


Tempus Fugit

by ldysatyr



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ldysatyr/pseuds/ldysatyr
Summary: Summary:  Alec meets Magnus for the first time when the latter is four hundred and twenty-three years old.  Magnus, however, has spent much of his life waiting for Alec.  AU that borrows from “The Time Traveler’s Wife.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Basically, I wanted to write an AU where Alec visits Magnus in the future, years after his death. This was the result. Also, I cannonball through canon. For reasons...

_Time will say nothing but I told you so,_  
_Time only knows the price we have to pay;_  
_If I could tell you I would let you know._

_…There are no fortunes to be told, although,_  
_Because I love you more than I can say,_  
_If I could tell you I would let you know._

\- W.H. Auden

1/?:

It is the distant sound of crying that awakens Alec.  He blinks at the sunlight in his eyes for several minutes.  His room faces the west end of the Institute, so he never has sun in his face in the morning.  He also shouldn’t be feeling what he has ascertained is dirt underneath him. 

Alec groans.  He has been jumping more lately.  The control the Silent Brothers advised him would come with age failing to actualize.  One day, he is told, he will be able to jump at will.  Maybe even to specific times and places.  Some day.  Not today clearly.

Only one Shadowhunter can bear the chronos rune at a time.  Alec is ten when he is told that James Carstairs, the former bearer of the chronos rune, has passed.  His own rune ceremony had only taken place weeks prior, but when his mother asks if he wished to join the searching ceremonies in Idris, Alec agrees.

The only word Alec could use to describe the atmosphere in Idris at the time is tense.  He recognizes many of the worried faces in line before the Silent Brothers, however, no one acknowledges him.  There is clearly excitement in the air, whispered words of “what if” and “if only.”  Alec remembers this day very well.  It is the last day time has any meaning to him.

Alec watches as the Shadowhunter ahead of him, Aline Penhallow, dejectedly steps down from the dais.  Alec smiles at Aline as she passes him with a hushed “good luck.”  When the chronos rune fails to accept a Shadowhunter, it sinks into their skin and vanishes.  Alec has been watching the ceremonies for several hours before his turn is called for the podium.  Alec steps up to the dais when waved forward by Brother Enoch.  It is always hard to look directly at one of the Silent Brothers, the powerful runes on their bodies making their appearance rather gruesome.  Alec struggles to even look in their direction when one of them takes his hand. 

Alec remembers in vivid detail the placement of his first rune.  He remembers the slight burn of his skin and the happiness that swelled within him.  The chronos rune is rather simple.  Concentric circles with seven intersecting lines down the center.  Alec watches in fascination at the lines made by Brother Micah, tracing them in his head over and over again.  The rune sinks into his skin, but does not fade.  It blackens.  Behind Alec, the crowd of Shadowhunters are silenced. 

Everything that is known about the chronos rune is theory or worse, rumors.  Not to say there hasn’t been much written about the rune, but its ten prior bearers have had widely differing experiences.  Margaret Branwell could really only jump to people she had already known and places she had already been.  Reed Wayland had difficulty jumping with clothes on.  James Carstairs had neither of his predecessor’s restrictions, but warned that time was stubborn, ultimately resistant to change.  Kill one dictator and three rise in his place.  There have been ten bearers in total.  On a warm December morning, Alec becomes the eleventh. 

Alec shakes the soil from his pants and heads into the trees, towards the crying sound.  Sounds of movement and the deep baritones of men’s voices draw his attention immediately. He comes across the child rather suddenly and horrifyingly understands the reason for his cries.  The baby is male, a newborn with the afterbirth still clinging to him.  Beside him is a fair skinned lady, the infant’s mother. The tip of the deflect rune is visible underneath her thin top.  A Shadowhunter.  She is dead, but has not been so for long.  The smell of blood is fresh and she and her son appear pristine in the wilderness.

The infant’s eyes are closed, but he seems to detect the presence of another and his cries abruptly stop.  The men’s voices sound louder in Alec’s ears. Closer. Alec bundles the infant in his hoodie to the best of his ability and heads where he thinks is west.  He has never jumped with a passenger before and everything he has ever read about the chronos rune indicates that it is not likely possible.  Still he closes his eyes and tries.  Alec runs for miles.  For hours.  He does not hear the men’s voices again. 

After some time, the trees give way to houses.  Streets. People.  Someone tells him he is in Strasbourg, France.  The year is 1991. 

Alec decides he likes the French people, who are not unlike New Yorkers in their ability to aggressively mind their own business. Despite his youth and the fact that he is carrying a newborn bundled in a hoodie, no one questions him and a young woman working the counter at a bakery lets him use their telephone.  There are certain numbers he has been forced to memorize.  Telephone numbers he has been assured will always ring no matter where or when he jumps to.  They send a man from the Paris Institute to him.  Alec shows him his chronos rune and hands him the infant.

He is asked about the infant’s name and Alec shrugs. “My parents are Maryse and Robert Lightwood of the New York Institute.  Ask them.” 

Alec closes his eyes and the aura of his jump comes to him like a tide crashing to shore.  Alec opens his eyes in his room and to the sight of the familiar stucco of his ceiling.  The red numbers on his digital clock tell him it’s only 9:15 p.m.  He should sleep.  But worry for the child has him rising from the bed and seeking out his parents.  After searching the den and the armory with no luck, Alec heads to his father’s study.  He knocks twice before opening the door, not waiting for a response.  What was once his father’s study, however, is now a bedroom.  A teenage boy’s bedroom if the Captain America posters were any sign. 

“Hey Alec,” a voice greets him from behind.  Alec startles as a lithe form ducks past him.  The boy says more, but Alec is not listening.  He is tall with golden hair, golden eyes and a concerned look on his handsome face.  The boy reaches over and snaps his fingers in front of Alec’s face.  “Yo, Alec. What’s the matter?”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.”_

_-_ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

2/?:

One of the first things he is instructed to do by the Silent Brothers is to keep a journal.  Isabelle once tries to get him to keep an electronic diary instead, but Alec finds it less satisfying than putting ink to paper.  Never being particularly tech savvy, recognizing his own handwriting is also the best security measure he can think of.  Besides, flipping through the pages of his journals has become synonymous to him of jumping in and out of time. 

Quietly making his excuses to dash out of the blonde teenager’s room, Alec scrambles for these journals now.  He finds them more robust than he remembers.  Pages and pages referencing “Jace.”  Jace loves spicy food and silent films.  Jace plays the piano and speaks Esperanto.  Jace hates ducks.  His most recent journal entry includes one of those cheap instant camera pics of him, Isabelle and the blonde teenager rooming in his father’s old study.  Jace. 

Alec is thankful again that he did not go with an electronic diary. Slamming a computer would not have gone as well.  His training with the Silent Brothers on the chronos rune was largely useless.  None of the Brothers had ever jumped before and as only one bearer can exist at a time, he couldn’t have very well learned from a former bearer.   The one takeaway from his training, however, the one thing that comforted him while he adjusted to the strangeness of the rune on his skin, was the fact that most bearers do not ever alter the past. 

Crap.

A loud knock causes Alec to jerk his head up.  Jace is leaning against his doorframe, trying to look casual, but Alec can see a hint of anxiety in his golden eyes.

“You’re back, huh?” The blonde asks with a slight tilt of his head.  He must notice the confusion on Alec’s face as he quickly continues, “I mean. You jumped into the past before. Well, before then. Or is it now? Anyway, mom told me you were the one who found me and asked that I be brought here.”

Alec doesn’t remember asking the man from the Paris Institute to bring the infant here, although that was probably an entirely reasonable action on his part.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you,” Jace says with a confidant smile.  “I mean, I’ve met you of course.  I’ve grown up with you, but you don’t remember that, right?”

He doesn’t, but Alec knows other bearers lie.  It would be easier to do so, but not in his nature.

“No,” he hears himself say.  “I don’t.  This is the first time I’ve ever changed the past.  Usually when I jump, I just end up on Megiat Beach.”  At Jace’s raised eyebrow, Alec clarifies, “It’s this beach in Bali.  For some reason, I end up in Indonesia a lot.”

Jace nods and slowly makes his way further into Alec’s room.  “That’s pretty cool. Does that place hold some sort of significance for you or something?”

Alec shrugs, “I keep track of every where and every when I’ve been.  Just in case at some point I need to go back,” Alec gestures for Jace to sit and he does so, Indian style at the foot of Alec’s bed.  “Sorry for acting like you were the ghost of Christmas past or something.”

“Meh. No biggie,” Jace says with a bright grin.  “You have any questions? I mean, we’re heading to Idris tomorrow, so if you plan on trying to trick Izzy or dad into thinking nothing’s changed, you’ll probably need to do a better job than you did with me just now.”

“Why are we heading to Idris?” Alec asked.

Jace hesitates, a look of discomfort crossing his face and Alec feels his anxiety rise again.  “Next week is dad’s week,” Jace answers slowly. 

“Dad’s week for what?”

The uncomfortable look on Jace’s face has reached nuclear levels.  “Alec, mom and dad are separated.  Dad lives in Idris.”

Oh. Crap.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Let me tell you what I wish I’d known_  
_When I was young and dreamed of glory_  
_You have no control:_  
_Who lives_  
_Who dies_  
_Who tells your story.”_

\- Lin-Manuel Miranda

3/?:

Alec knew his parent’s fought. Everyone at the Institute knew that.  The voices of the elder Lightwoods could often be heard reverberating through the hallways.  Max would crawl into his room at night during particularly bad fights that shook the walls.  But the next day, things would be better.  Maryse would smile at something Robert did and their parents’ relationship seemed as strong as ever.  Somehow, Jace’s appearance changed this and Alec had no idea why. 

“When does it happen?” Alec asks Jace warily.  

Jace scootches over so that he is within arm’s reach of Alec, but no closer. “I think I was seven or eight?”

Alec startles at this.  If Jace was that young then his parents separated before he received the chronos rune.  More alarmingly, Alec realizes, “But what about Max?” he asks.

“Whose Max?” Jace asks bewildered.

Alec has never successfully induced a jump before.  He knows that certain things can trigger a jump.  Stress.  Danger.  Fear.  Alec feels the jump come on now like rolling thunder and he surrenders to it immediately.

Alec wakes on the beach.  Probably Somewhere, Indonesia.  Again.  He closes his eyes at the sharp nausea and stifles a sob. 

“Are you all right?” A voice asks. 

Alec startles, crab walking backwards away.  A very blue man is standing there wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts and a straw hat.  He has a worried look on his face that does not seem to fit his otherwise boyish features.  A warlock.

“I’m fine. Sorry, for disturbing you,” Alec eyes the warlock cautiously.  He has not had a lot of interaction with warlocks before, but this one seemed friendly enough.  There was something suddenly reassuring about seeing this blue man on the beach.  Like a reminder that his life is just not normal. 

The man is unaffected by Alec’s mild ‘get back’ stare and sits on the sand beside him.  “I’m the one that approached you, so surely you’re not disturbing me.”

“Have I seen you here before?” asks Alec, sitting up from his crab walk stance and feeling for the dagger that he keeps hidden in his right boot.

“Probably,” the blue man says with a shrug.  “This is a private beach.  My ayah owns the land, so I come down here quite often when I’m visiting him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I trespassing?” Alec asks suddenly alarmed. 

The blue man waves a hand at Alec, the baubles on his fingers catching the sunlight.  “No worries.  You are welcome here.  I don’t mind and my ayah doesn’t either.”

Alec tries for a smile.  “Thank you.”

Nodding, the blue man traces a decorated finger through the sand.  “Where did you jump from?”  Smile vanishing, Alec’s hand moves for his dagger.  Again, a calming hand is raised in his direction, “Softly, Shadowhunter,” the blue man says with a sheepish grin.  “I mean you no harm.  I just noticed the chronos rune and put two and two together.  My dad and my ayah were both friends of James Carstairs.”

Relaxing, Alec nods.  James Carstairs was known to be friends with many warlocks, much to the Clave’s displeasure.  “I was home actually.  The jump before that, I was in the past.  In France somewhere,” Alec waves his hand in a vague gesture.  “I saved a baby,” he whispered.

The blue man smiles fondly at him.  “That sounds wonderful.”

Alec shakes his head.  “No. I. It changed things. Saving him.  My brother, Max, he,” Alec finds putting what happened into words a struggle.  So he doesn’t.     

“I’m sorry, about your brother,” the blue man commiserates.  There is something in his tone, his face.  Alec believes him.  “Who wouldn’t save a child though if he sees him suffering,” he continues, voice reasonable and empathetic, “You made a hard choice.  Good men have to make hard choices.  I think…well, I think Max would be proud of you.”

“Max believed in good and evil.  Like the characters in his manga.  He wanted to be the greatest Shadowhunter ever,” Alec tells the blue man somberly.  “No one will remember him, but he was a good kid.  He would have been a good man.”  This time when the misery rises to the surface, he does not stifle his sobs. 

“You will remember him,” the warlock reminds him softly.  At some point the sun starts to set in a kaleidoscope of colors.  Rising, the blue man adds, “He is a good kid.”

 “Going somewhere?” Alec asks.

The blue man shakes his head.  “No, but you probably are and I’ve stayed for too long.”  Alec nods.  He should go back.  Talk to Jace.  “Talk to Jace.”

“Did I mention Jace to you,” Alec asks frowning. 

His question is ignored, but the warlock responds with, “Come back anytime.”

Alec frowns again, “I seem to have no choice in the matter.”

Whipping out a pair of sunglasses, the blue man laughs as he puts them on.  “I think you’ll find the chronos rune works better than you think.  You go where you are wanted.  Or needed.”  The blue man takes a few steps before stopping and waving at him, “Good bye, Alec.”

Alec does not remember telling the warlock his name either.  Too late he realizes he did not ask him for his.


	4. Chapter 4

_Will’s voice dropped. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jem.”  
“Yes,” said Jem. “You just make more of them than most people.”_

\- Cassandra Clare

4/?

Alec quietly packs for Idris.  Now that he knows what he has changed, he can see the evidence of the same everywhere in the Institute.  It’s not just Max that has disappeared either.  All traces of Robert Lightwood, save Alec and Izzy themselves, seems to have been carefully cleaned away.  There is one acknowledgement of Robert Lightwood in the Institute, his name in red letters, in a calendar in the kitchen.  According to the calendar, the trio visits their father once a month for one week. 

Alec only numbly acknowledges this new reality and ignores Jace’s increasingly worried glances at him.  Izzy is harder to ignore, but she seems to buy his excuse of being in a bad mood and simply not wanting to go to Idris in the first place.

If his father has been surgically removed and Max never existed, then his mother is a ghost.  She fleets hurriedly from room to room.  During meals their conversations are short and impersonal or non-existence.  Strangely enough, it is his mother’s appearance that seems the most striking change.  When his parents were together, Maryse would wear a silver bangle on her right hand or a hint of brown eyeshadow.  This is no longer the case.  She is still a beautiful woman, the angular features that men find so alluring in his sister clearly originating from the elder Lightwood.  There is something missing now though that is not just make-up or jewelry.  Alec thinks, perhaps, it may be joy.  He considers asking Jace about the events leading up to the separation, but finally decides it does not matter. 

His bedroom in his father’s place appears to be identical to his room at the Institute, which Alec finds somewhat funny.  He spends most of his time in his room, meditating.  Thoughts of finding his way back to France in 1991 occupying his mind.

He wakes on his third day in Idris to Jace leaning on his door frame. 

“What are you doing up so early?” Alec asks with a yawn and a stretch.  Both him and Jace avoid going down to the kitchen until at least noon, lest they get pulled into eating whatever breakfast Izzy decides to concoct.  At least that hasn’t changed, Alec thinks warily.

Jace shrugs and enters his room, sitting at the edge of the bed.  Alec pulls his legs up to his chest to avoid getting sat on.  “Just wanted to see if you wanted to go down to the lake with me.”

Alec pulls a curious face.  “You hate the lake.  The ducks terrify you.”

“They don’t terrify me,” Jace scoffs, “I just…don’t like them.  Anyway, it’ll just take me a few minutes to shoo them and then we can hang out there alone.”  At his eyebrow lift, Jace shrugs.  “You and I were close.  Before.  I just.  I want you to be happy.”  Alec wonders if Jace looks at everyone with such worry.  Probably not, he thinks and feels suddenly bad for inflicting that on anyone. 

“I’m not unhappy,” Alec says into his knees, but agrees to meet Jace at the lake. 

As stated, Jace wastes no time herding the ducks away from the lake.  Alec is not sure who he feels worse for, the ducks or Jace.  Jace is very committed to his task, which he does with enough precision to clearly be practiced. 

They sit in silence at the edge of the lake for a few minutes before Jace nudges his arm.

“You know when you’re drowning, despite the fact that your body is suffering from lack of oxygen, you instinctively refrain from opening your mouth.  Otherwise, the water would rush in and you’d suffocate even faster.  Instead, people black out first.”  Jace tells him, aprops to nothing.

Alec stares at him blankly.  “Okay?”

“I know your jumps are triggered by danger and fear.  I think,” Jace pauses, “Well, Izzy will be asleep for a few more hours and dad has meetings with the Clave, we can try to see if we can induce a few jumps.  Maybe send you back to before you changed the past.” 

“Jace,” Alec replies softly, touching the younger boy on his shoulder. 

“It’s not like I would remember.  What it was like before I mean…and you can always look me up, right?” Jace forces a dim smile, brushing his hair back. 

Alec is unsure what to say, but for some reason the words, “I would” come out and Jace beams at him. 

Jace’s plan is simple.  He will hold Alec down under water for a few minutes and see if this will induce a jump.  If Alec starts to flail or make other signs he is in danger of drowning, he will quickly let him up.  Water.  Rinse.  Repeat. 

The first few times are absolute failures.  Alec panics and punches Jace in the face as he flails.  Jace ends up having to haul him back to land to calm him down.  By the fourth or fifth time, Alec familiarizes himself with the feeling of Jace’s hands in his hair and the water stinging his eyes. 

Alec thinks of Max, closes his eyes and jumps.

Alec opens his eyes and finds himself facing a brick wall.  He thinks he’s in Brooklyn, although in a part of town he has never been before.  Alec wanders the streets for almost an hour before he is able to find a payphone.  He is definitely in New York City and the woman at the other end of a phone tells him the year is 2003.  Alec declines her offer of help and hangs up while she continues to try to reason with him.  

Alec should be happy that he was able to induce a jump, something he has never done before, but the sting he feels at failing to end up in the correct time or place even is sharp.  Alec recalls the hours he spent training in the ranges for his archery.  He was not a naturally gifted marksman, but made that up with years of practice and patience.  At least time was on his side, Alec thought bemusedly. 

A warm hand touches the back of his shoulder and Alec startles.  The man who smiles kindly at him looks familiar, although Alec is unsure of from where.  Or when.  “You must be Alec.”

Shrugging, Alec nods.  “Yes and you are?”

The man smiles at him again, although now with humor and mischief in his dark brown eyes.  “I am James Carstairs.”


	5. Chapter 5

_“There is a destiny which makes us brothers; none goes his way alone. All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.”_

\- Edwin Markham

5/?:

“…but call me Jem.” Alec blanks on the first few words the man says after giving his name.

“How is this possible? Is it even allowed?” Alec asks, backing away from Jem.

Jem smiles.  “I’m sure you have some time, and there are things to be said,” Jem gestures across the street.  “My wife does not live too far from here.  Come with me.”

The apartment of Jem’s wife is small, but comfortable.  Sparsely furnished and decorated, there is a purple coach covered in cat fur in one corner and black and white photographs hanging on the walls. The woman herself, a petite, brown haired woman who identifies herself as Tessa, shakes Alec’s hand at the door. 

“You know you’re dead, right?” Alec does the math quickly in his head. In 2003, he is twelve and received the chronos rune the year prior.   His parents, Alec remembers, should already be divorced.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Jem says with a laugh.  Tessa quietly places her hand on top of his.  She has lovely skin, Alec thinks, soft and a wonderful shade of olive.  “Tessa is immortal.  So I made plans after I died to…visit.  This is one such trip.”

Alec startles, “Are you a warlock?” He saw no mark to indicate that she was, although a glamour could have remedied that.

Tessa shakes her head, although it is Jem who answers, “No.  Well, yes,” Jem looks at his wife fondly. “Tessa is Tessa.”

How helpful, Alec thinks sarcastically.  Tessa must sense his wariness as she adds, “My father was a demon and my mother was an unmarked Shadowhunter,” Tessa laughs at the amazed expression on Alec’s face, “I find the more I tell people, the more questions they have.  But yes, I am immortal and Jem is not.  Before he passed, however, he visited the future on multiple occasions. He wrote the times and places he went down for me so I have a way of seeing him even now.”

Alec looks to Jem, “That’s brilliant,” he tells him. 

Jem laughs and pats Tessa’s hands, “I have my moments I suppose. But never mind.  That is not why I asked you to come.  I know who you are despite the fact that you become the chronos bearer after me because I made it a point to jump to a time where that knowledge would be common.  The bearer who I replaced did the same and she delivered a message to me that I will now deliver to you.”

“What message is that?”

Jem smiled.  “Whatever you changed, it’s okay.”

Alec startles, “How did you…”

Shrugging Jem replies, “I didn’t.  But every chronos bearer has changed the past in some way.  And life goes on.  That is all there is to it.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Alec cries, rising to his feet.  “I completely screwed up my family.  My parents are divorced.  My little brother doesn’t exist anymore…He’s been replaced by some boy I found in the middle of nowhere and now he lives with us and sleeps in my father’s old study and everything is just all wrong!”

For a few minutes, Alec’s heavy breaths are the only sounds that can be heard in Tessa’s small apartment.  When they subside, there is silence.

After a moment, Jem asks, “Did you tell your parents to divorce?”

“No,” Alec answers curtly, recoiling.  “Of course not.”

“So why is their decision to end their marriage your fault?”

Alec reasoned, “They weren’t divorced before I brought Jace into their lives, so it was clearly something I did.”

“How do you know?”

As if summoned, the warlock’s words on the beach come back him. “Talk to Jace,” he says. 

“I didn’t want to know.” Alec whispers.

Jem pulls away from Tessa to turn to Alec fully.  “Your parents divorced because they decided to do so.  They also chose to take in this other boy.  You did not decide that for them.  When you jump, you act on your own free will.  And so does everyone else.” Jem pauses, “As I’m sure you know, the training for the chronos rune bearers is somewhat…lacking.” Jem smiles at Alec’s snort.  “It’s that way for a reason.  Our predecessors long learned that if we are the cause of the problem, we are also the solution.  The Clave,” Jem waves his hands theatrically, “they just sort of get in our way.  So we’ve stopped telling them anything.  When things work out, they just assume they had their usual hand in it and the world moves on.”

Alec plays with a bit of pilling on Tessa’s threadbare purple couch. “So you think I should just...let it go?”

Jem shakes his head.  “I’m suggesting you find out why your parents made the choices they did,” Jem shrugs, “If afterwards you find you still want to try to change things back…then go right ahead.  You will certainly have the time to do so.  From my experience though, time is like a ball of yarn.  Once you unravel it, you can never put it back exactly the way it was.”

“Is it possible for me to even go back?” Alec asks. “I still can’t jump to specific times and places.”

“It is possible, although difficult,” Jem looks back at Tessa with a small smile, “Our lives anchor us.  It is how we find our way back after a jump and it is why it is hard for us to travel great distances either in time or space.  To jump to a specific time and place, think of an anchor, someone or something to jump to and then just…go.  This boy…Jace?” at Alec’s nod, Jem continues, “he means something to you.  He must if you were able to travel back in time to help him.”

“I’ve tried to make him not mean anything,” Alec replies with a sigh.  “Thank you for telling me all this.”

“I know you may find it is easier to talk to a stranger sometimes rather than your family,” Jem says kindly, “but trust me, you do not want to go through this alone.”

Jace’s face is inches from his own when Alec blinks up at him.  His golden hair is sopping wet and tendrils of water are dripping onto Alec’s face.  He jerks away when he realizes Alec is back and awake.

“Man, you scared me,” Jace accuses, crossing his muscular arms. 

Alec sits up and shakes some of the water from his face.  “Sorry.”

Jace does not ask him where or when he went.  A feat Alec appreciates. 

The sun is fairly high in the sky at this point, so Alec guesses it is close to noon.  After a moment, Jace starts to squirm beside him.  The ducks Jace shooed away in the morning have started to return.  To Jace, they seem a rather looming group, making their way towards them with intention in their beady eyes.  Alec laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“What?” Jace cries skittishly.

Alec laughs, “I trusted my life to a guy petrified of a flock of ducks.”

Jace scowls, “I told you, I’m not scared of them.  I just don’t trust them.  Also, ducks are only called a flock when they’re in flight.  When they’re on land they’re called a team or a raft.”

“Good to know,” Alec admits, “I’ll be sure to use the correct terminology when I train them to form death squadrons.”

Jace laughs haughtily, “You love me.  You wouldn’t do that.” At the awkward silence that follows, Jace frowns.  “I didn’t mean…”

“What happened, anyway, to your mother,” Alec asks before Jace could apologize for something he shouldn’t have to apologize for. 

“Her name was Celine,” Jace says with a smile. “Celine Herondale. The Clave investigated her death, but never found anything out that wasn’t obvious.  There were rumors that she had gone a little crazy after my father died.”

“Your father is dead as well?” Alec asks, horrified.

Jace smirks, “Well, yeah.  That’s sort of why I live with you, duh.”  Of course. Why else would Jace live with them if he wasn’t an orphan otherwise?  Alec chastises himself for his own stupidity. “I always thought of Maryse as my mother though and Robert, my father,” Jace tells him.  “We’re not blood, but we are…of the same soul, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Alec whispers, “For trying to take them away from you.”

Jace does not try to offer empty words of forgiveness or understanding, which Alec appreciates.  “It hurt me too, you know, when they split,” Jace answers, “But dad is happier now and mom, well, she has the truth finally.”

Alec inches closer to Jace.  “Tell me what that means,” he asks him plainly.

Jace nods. “When dad was younger he met mom at the Shadowhunter Academy.  The two of them were also good friends with another student there, Michael Wayland, who ultimately became dad’s best friend,” Alec nods and motions for Jace to continue, knowing this information already. “Well, apparently, before dad married mom, Michael confessed that he carried a bit of a torch for him.  Dad, as we know, married mom anyway.  After which he and Michael sort of went their separate ways.  After I came to live at the Institute, the Clave contacted Michael as his son went missing a few years ago and he and I share some similar physical characteristics…” Jace shakes his head. “A dead end, but he and dad started talking again…”

Alec’s vision greys for a moment; his head is spinning so fast.  “Dad’s…gay.”

“I think the term is bisexual,” Jace corrects mildly.  “You know dad, he doesn’t talk about his feelings.  I think he did honestly love mom, for what it’s worth.  But marrying her was something he thought he should do, not what he necessarily wanted to do,” Jace finishes with a shrug.  “He and Michael have been together for a few years now.  Things were rough for a while, but believe it or not, things actually got better once mom and dad split up.”

Alec believes him.  In fact, Alec thinks the universe itself is almost speaking to him through Jace.  Grief for Max swells in him again and Alec covers his face with his hands at the wash of misery.  Jace’s arms are around him in an instant and Alec let’s this strange boy, who he inadvertently made his brother, comfort him. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update that marks the end of my "exposition" chapters. Thank you for bearing with me.

_It was a lesson, Magnus thought, to love while you could, love what was fragile and beautiful and imperiled.  Nobody was guaranteed forever._

_-_ Cassandra Clare and Sarah Rees Brennan

6/?:

It was a hot, humid, summer day.  Rahmat Malik lays on his back, eyes closed, listening to the sounds the river makes nearby.  He does not notice the tall, dark haired man’s approach until he is leaning over him.  The man has eyes like Rahmat has never seen.  They are a shade of blue like the moon, when it is large and close to the ground.  The man tries to speak to him, but Rahmat does not understand the words he is using.  The man opens his arms to him and Rahmat climbs into them.  The child is fascinated by his dark hair, highlighted with smatters of white.  Only three people held him as a child before this man, his mother being the first and the other two being Silent Brothers. 

Rahmat frowns at the thought of his mother and banishes the image of her hanging from their barn from his mind. Instead, he burrows further into the stranger’s jacket and relishes the feeling of being held.  Rahmat does not expect to see the man again, so he is delighted when he returns next year with a small gift, a handful of sweet rambutans.  The blue eyed man sits beside him on the steps of the Madrid Institute, peels the skin off each fruit and hands them to him, one by one.  Rahmat laughs as the juices burst in his mouth when he bites into them. 

The man comes four more times while Rahmat is at the Madrid Institute, each time with something sweet, a papaya or some purple mangosteens.  Rahmat asks for his name one day in broken English.  He frowns when the man smiles, not sure if he is being made fun of. 

“I am Alexander,” he says in a sweet voice.  Rahmat smiles.  He likes that name.

Rahmat Malik becomes Magnus Bane one day in Seville.  He is never any one else henceforth.  

~ ~ ~

The next time Magnus Bane sees Alexander, he is handing him the knife that he uses to cut his friend, Catarina, loose.  Magnus is so surprised to see him that he forgets to speak.  “Run towards the hills,” Alexander suggests breathlessly, his eyes bright even in the night. “There is a shack there that used to be a vampire safehouse.  It is glamoured from mundane eyes.”  Catarina nods and grabs his hands, pulling him away.  Later, Magnus will ponder why Alexander looked younger than the last time he saw him.

~ ~ ~

Magnus throws himself a lavish six hundredth birthday party in London.  He is only about two hundred at the time, but those are details about himself he rarely shares with others.  

This time, when Alexander walks towards him, Magnus is prepared and asks him to dance.  Alexander smiles prettily and nods.  There are crow’s feet now around Alexander’s eyes, which weren’t there before.  His eyes, however, are as still a luminescent blue.  They do a simple waltz and continue to hold on to each other even after their song ends. 

“Stay,” Magnus begs him to his face. 

Alexander winces, “I can’t,” he whispers back.

~ ~ ~

A week after Magnus moves to New York, Alexander quietly sits next to him in the public library.  They say nothing.

~ ~ ~

“TA DAH!” Magnus crows, dropping the purple couch to the center of Tessa’s micro-apartment. 

“Um.  Thank you.  I think,” Tessa replies eyeing the couch suspiciously. She picks at tufts of cat hair on the armrests.  “Did you portal this from the Goodwill or something?”

Magnus makes a face at her.  “Have you ever seen anything as fabulous as this at the Goodwill?” Tessa shrugs, noting the threadbare cushions.  “It’s mine.  Although mostly it’s gone to the cats since I replaced it with my leather sectional.  Still, it is a perfectly serviceable couch.”

Tessa shrugs, “I really couldn't care less about your couch.”  Magnus sticks his tongue out her and is heartened by Tessa’s laugh. 

Stepping out of Tessa’s building, he bumps into a man sitting on her steps. 

“Hey,” Alexander greets.  He looks about the same age as he was when they first met.  Magnus sits beside him.

Fiddling with his hands, Magnus admits, “I missed you.”

Alexander looks pained.  “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have come...”

Magnus waves away his concerns.  “You are a Shadowhunter?” at Alexander’s nod, Magnus continues, “When do we meet for real?”

“Soon,” Alexander answers simply.   

~ ~ ~

Over four hundred years after their first meeting, an arrow zooms past Magnus and he recognizes the shooter immediately.  He is younger somehow, his skin completely devoid of any lines, but his eyes are the same.  He’s still the most beautiful thing Magnus has ever seen.

“Alexander,” he whispers, as the man brushes past him to check on the Circle member he just downed with his arrow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for television show levels of violence. As always, thanks for reading. Your comments have been lovely.

_Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too.  They live inside us, and sometimes, they win._

\- Stephen King

7/?:

**New York City  
Fall 2016**

Between the blinding lights and the EDM music pulsating in the background, Alec was re-evaluating whether or not hell could be a place on Earth.  “I can’t believe this was chosen as the meet-up place,” Alec griped.

Despite the insistent press of bodies in every direction, Izzy manages to part the crowd enough to make her way towards her brother.  Although Isabelle Lightwood bore a striking resemblance to her brother physically with matching dark hair and long limbs, while Alec longed to melt into the crowd, Isabelle lived to stand out from it.  Tonight, for example, her outfit was a silver sequined number, almost modest given her usual proclivity, more sparkly than revealing.  Her whip she had safely tucked inside her thigh high boots.  Two drinks in hand, Isabelle hands Alec the blue one with a smile.

Taking a large sip of her drink, Izzy replies, “You need to relax.”

Alec rolls his eyes, “Seeing as we’re on a mission, this is as relaxed as I’m going to get.” Alec scans the crowd again for Jace, but knows he won’t see him.  Jace was annoyingly good at everything, including espionage.  Even in a place like this where privacy was practically non-existence, he would have found a secluded area to take their would-be informant to.  “Besides, an anonymous fire message from someone claiming to be Hodge Starkweather offering to give Jace and only Jace information about the whereabouts of Valentine Morgenstern?  Not suspicious at all,” Alec continues, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“We checked him, remember? He was clean,” Izzy rationalized, holding the glass of her finished drink out like a cigarette.  The man certainly looked like Hodge Starkweather if the images Raj was able to find of him in the Clave archives were any indication.  He also produced the Starkweather family ring as further proof.  Still, Isabelle couldn’t blame Alec for feeling uneasy.  Starkweather was a skilled Shadowhunter and although Jace could hold his own in a fight with anybody, she preferred if he did so after Isabelle had the chance to wrap her whip around his neck. 

Alec scanned the crowd again, spotting a golden head in the sea of bodies.  “Which will do us no good if he’s got a hoard of demons tucked away somewhere.”

Isabelle shrugs, “That’s what we’re here for.”

Alec downed his own drink and nodded his head to the left.  “I see him.  Let’s get a bit closer.” Alec grabbed his sister by the arm and let her lead the way.  By the time they get to Jace, however, Starkweather is gone. 

“What did he say?” Izzy asks a rather stupefied looking Jace.

Jace shakes his head, but the action is more instinctual than a response to Isabelle’s words.  “Let’s get out of here first.”

Alec snorts, “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

The trio head out into the alleyway, Izzy and Alec automatically flanking Jace.  They can still hear the music from the club from outside, but it is a muffled physical thing rather than actual sound.  The necklace on Isabelle’s throat glows a fiery red for several seconds before Jace draws his seraph blade and slashes at the lesser demon that lunges at him.  Alec puts an arrow through the next and for the first time this night, Alec hears only the pounding of his heart and not that incessant club music.  The swarm of insect demons the siblings expect, however, never materializes and Alec slowly relaxes his bow. 

“That can’t be all of them,” Izzy declares, confusion on her face.

“Unless,” Jace replies, “We weren’t the intended targets.”

Alec’s blue eyes widen in understanding, “Where’s Starkweather?”

Jace gestures to the rooftop, “We need higher ground.”  The Lightwoods agree and together they scale the fire escape to the roof.  Alec spots the shax demon first, but Izzy stabs it in the head before he can even draw his bow. 

“Can’t let you boys have all the fun,” she mocks cheekily, throwing her hair back. Jace snorts and makes a herding gesture, already jumping to the next rooftop. Alec falls back, comfortable in allowing Izzy and Jace to take the lead while he provides back-up.  The three Shadowhunters follow the shax demons like an ant trail.  Jace stops them at the next rooftop, spotting fresh blood.  He gestures for them to get down as he peers over the ledge.  The shax demon has Starkweather in its pinchers and is attempting to drag him down the side of the building, but Starkweather appears to have some strength left, which he was using to attempt to crawl away.

Alec gestures for Jace to switch places with him, which he does without question.  As Alec releases his arrow, Jace leaps over the side of the building to grab Starkweather.  The man crumples even with Jace’s arm supporting most of his weight.

Izzy and Alec join him on the ground, weapons still drawn, Starkweather being as much of a threat as the shax demon.  Alec quickly realizes, however, their caution is unnecessary.  Starkweather is clearly bleeding to death.  His eyes are grey and hollow.  He resembles a puppet with his strings cut.  The ground underneath them is sticky with his blood.  While Alec could care less about the death of a demon, the death of a Shadowhunter, even one with a past as egregious as Starkweather’s, is always a sad affair.  Somewhere, someone will mourn for this man. 

Alec reaches for his phone and sends a message for a team to be dispatched to their location.  Izzy wraps her arms around Jace and asks if he’s all right.  Nodding, Jace rearranges Starkweather to give him some dignity in death. 

“Someone wanted him silenced for good,” Alec muses aloud. “Any idea who?”

Jace nods at his adopted brother.  “Yeah.  Starkweather gave me a name.  Sebastian.”

~ ~ ~

Alec asks Raj to run a search on the name when they get back to the Institute.  Izzy bails on him after the clean-up crew come, citing her need to meet up with someone to do something.  It was best that Alec doesn’t know the details, she tells him.  Alec agrees.  Jace sits with him though as he flips through the Clave’s archives. 

“You sure you’re all right?” Alec asks again, not used to Jace being the silent one.

Jace shrugs and states matter-of-factly, “He admitted to killing my mother.”

Alec startles. “What?”

“Starkweather.  He admitted to killing my mother,” Jace repeats, golden eyes hard as he searches for something in Alec’s face.  “He and Valentine tracked my parents down to the town in France where they were hiding. Valentine killed my father and Starkweather, well, he wounded my mother.  She managed to flee, but she was heavily pregnant so…well, I guess you kind of know that part.”

Alec thinks of voices in the woods from long ago.  “Did he tell you why?”

“Valentine wanted _me_ ,” Jace replies, twirling his stele.  “Whatever for, I don’t know.” 

After that day out by the lake, the two brothers silently agree to never speak of how Alec altered the past.  Or how Alec almost tried to alter it back.  Izzy complained of the unfairness of being left out of whatever brotherhood ritual they performed out there.  Alec, still shaken and eyes bloodshot, let’s Jace make excuses for them both.  Perhaps Izzy was right, in some way, a brotherhood ritual was exactly what they performed. 

“What an asshole,” Alec says and Jace guffaws.

“Any luck on our mystery man?” Jace asks with a bit of an improved mood.

Shaking his head, Alec gestures at his screen.  “No one by that name is connected to Valentine according to our archives.  There is someone who may know who that is though.  Valentine’s ex-wife, Jocelyn Fairchild.”

“Sheesh, someone married that piece of work?” Jace retorts, disgust evident on his face.

Alec laughs, “Married him and had a kid.  Jocelyn Fairchild is the head of the Toronto Institute.  She has a daughter that’s about your age, Clarissa.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re making us go to Toronto,” Jace whines as if Alec were suggesting they make a trip to Mars.

“Of course not,” Alec answers, “they’ve already agreed to come here.”

~ ~ ~

After a few more hours of digging, which produces zero results, Jace physically removes Alec from his station and banishes him from the Ops Center for the remainder of the night.  Deciding sleep was not happening; Alec elects to go for a run in Central Park.  Alec found running greatly reduced his stress levels and minimized the number of involuntary jumps he’s had over the years.  Alec hesitates to leave his bow at the Institute given recent events, but he typically does not take his full gear out with him when running.  He packs his knives instead before heading out.

Alec admittedly feels better once he starts his run, although he still takes the time to also mentally go through all the information they have on Valentine Morgenstern. It was appalling for Alec to realize how much that man’s life intersected with his own.  His parents were both followers of his and were lucky to escape with their lives.  Michael Wayland, his father’s partner, was also a follower.  Valentine murdered his wife and son while he was preparing to flee with them to Idris.  Now he learned, according to Starkweather at least, that Jace’s biological parents, the Herondales, fled to France only to be murdered by him as well.  How someone like that keeps getting followers boggles Alec’s mind. 

Alec slows to a walk as he approaches Wollman Rink, his usual stopping point before he heads home.  Sometimes he will come out here just to watch the skaters perform at night and Jace will accompany him.  It’s a compromise he’s made with the younger man as he refuses to sit by the pond with him due to his mistrust of the dreaded billed creatures.  The rink is closed at this hour though and Alec prepares to turn back when he notices a hooded man standing in the middle of the deserted rink.  Shadowhunter instincts scream at him not turn his back on this man as he reverses his steps, cursing himself for leaving his bow at the Institute.

“Alexander Lightwood?” The man calls out.

“Who wants to know?” Alec calls back.  The man is on top of him in an instant and Alec rolls, drawing one of his knives.  An elbow catches him in the chin and he is slammed back down to the ground.  Alec manages to keep hold of his weapon, however, and slashes at his assailant, forcing him backwards.  Panting, Alec climbs to his feet and gets a closer look at the man attacking him.  He is surprised by his attractive features, high cheekbones framed by short blonde hair.  “Who are you?” 

The man’s sneer darkens his handsome face.  “Don’t you know?  I’m the real ‘Jace.’  Jonathan Christopher Wayland.”  Alec’s surprise costs him as the man advances on him again, this time, his hands find Alec’s throat and he presses down hard.  Alec blacks out.    

~ ~ ~

Alec wakes to the sound of dripping water, aware that there are a set of eyes on him.  Someone has taken his clothes and when he tries to wrap his limbs around himself, he finds his movements restricted by heavy manacles. 

The man from last night crouches next to him, his face inches from Alec’s own.  Alec attempts to recoil, but caught between his captor and the restraints, he does not go far. 

The man traces Alec’s chronos rune over and over with his fingers and then his lips in a perversely intimate way.  “I’m sorry I had to force your hand, Alexander.  But I didn’t think you would help me of your own free will.”

“Help you with what?” Alec asks warily.

“You can un-make me.  Take me away from Valentine like you did for Jace.” The man spits Jace’s name.

Alec’s mind races as he remembered the words exchanged earlier.  It’s not hard suddenly to see Michael’s features in this man’s face.  “You’re Jonathan Wayland.”

“I was,” Jonathan says in a hollow voice.

“Why didn’t you go to your father or the Clave…?” Alec starts.

“The Clave,” the man roars, grabbing Alec by the throat and shaking him, “You think the Clave will help a demon? They will sooner kill me than help me.  No, the only one who can help me is you.  You can help me by going back and taking me away from him.”

“I can’t,” Alec gasps as Jonathan’s grip on him tightens, “It doesn’t work that way.”

“The only way you’re leaving here is by un-making me,” Jonathan sneers, the whites in his eyes darkening, “So you better find a way.”

Alec idly wonders if Jace and Izzy realize he’s missing yet before passing out.


	8. Chapter 8

_“Grown-ups are complicated creatures, full of quirks and secrets.”_

― Roald Dahl

8/?:

Izzy wakes Jace by throwing his gear at his head.  “Get up,” she orders over the sound of Jace’s groan, “Alec’s missing.”

The blonde startles at her words, suddenly wide awake.  “What? Are you sure?” He asks, already tossing his clothes on. 

Izzy nods, “He logged off for a run last night and never logged back on.”

“Did you just get home?” Jace questions, eyeing her clothes and ignoring her withering stare. “Come on. I know his jogging route.”

Wordlessly, Izzy follows Jace out of the Institute.  

~ ~ ~

Alec wakes to the distant sound of crying, drowned out by police sirens.  He immediately wishes he could fall back unconscious.  One of the first things he realized about jumping that no one ever warned him about was that it did not magically heal injuries.  He remains in the same shape he was before and after a jump, which is why he is currently naked in an empty church parking lot with finger shaped bruises on his neck.  At least he ditched the psycho Shadowhunter strangling him, Alec thinks.  He locates a donation box and swipes a pair of sweat pants and a sweater.  He still feels rather naked, however, bereft of his stele and bow. 

The crying, he discovers, is coming from the infant laying in a box at the bottom of the church’s steps.  Alec wonders where normal people find babies.  Probably at a daycare or a nursery.  He seems to just find them lying around.  The child has a smattering of flattened black hair with the tiniest horns peeking out at the sides and skin in a lovely shade of navy.  A warlock.  Alec gently lifts the baby up, cradling it to his chest.  To his surprise, the infant immediately stops crying and stares at Alec with wide blue eyes.   A piece of paper is pinned to the child’s white onesie that asks, “who could love it?”  Alec frowns and crumples the note.  He ascends the stairs of the church and pulls on the doors.  Locked.  Unusual for a church, he thinks, but tries knocking instead.  He fails to hide his surprise when a young woman with blue skin and white hair answers the door.

“Uh. Hello,” he greets her lamely, “There’s. I found,” he rambles, “baby.” He thrusts the infant at the woman.

“Alexander?” The warlock questions, eyeing him up and down, no doubt unimpressed with his ensemble.

“Um.  Yes? I…do I know you?”

The woman smiles, “It appears I have met you, but you have yet to meet me.  Well, we can change that right now.  I am Catarina Loss.”  She eyes the infant, but makes no move to take him from Alec.  “Come in.”

The inside of the church appears to have been converted into a small daycare with happy pictures of animals on the walls and colorful rugs on the floor.  Alec watches his feet as he walks with Catarina to the side of the room where there is a kitchenette, taking care to avoid stepping on blocks or dolls.  He smiles at the handful of warlock children he passes, who eye him curiously.

“This place is amazing,” he says with a laugh, bouncing the child in his arms.  The infant coos as if in agreement.

The woman, Catarina, shrugs.  “I do what I can,” she declares, lifting her arms to take the baby from him. 

“Is he…yours?” Alec asks, the question out of his mouth before he realizes how stupid it is.  “I mean.  I know where babies come from and that warlocks can’t.  Have babies.  But he’s blue and you’re blue. But I guess what I said before about warlocks not being able to have babies means he can’t be yours…and I’ll just…stop talking now.”

Catarina appears unfazed by his rambling and simply shakes her head at him with a smile.  “Do you want to help me make him a bottle?”  She does not wait for his answer and instead starts pulling the items needed from the cabinets.

“Sure,” Alec says with a shrug.  Alec used to help his mother with bottles for Max when he was a baby.  He finds the skill has been retained despite the long period of disuse.  Catarina hands the infant warlock back to Alec as he proceeds to feed him.

“You’re good with him,” Catarina observes.

Alec shrugs, “He’s been pretty well behaved so far.  We’ll see how he does when I take the bottle away and try to burp him.  My little brother used to scream bloody murder when I did that to him.”

Catarina smiles, “How old is your brother now?” she asks.  Alec is stricken.  It’s been so long since he spoke about Max to anyone.  He couldn’t, not without sounding, well, crazy.  Neither Jace or Izzy are young enough for him to have had a hand in raising them.  Numbly, Alec realizes that if Max still existed, he would be about twelve now.  When he looks back at Catarina, her face is full of sympathy.  “Question withdrawn, Shadowhunter.”

Alec’s smile is brittle, but he nods and hands the half empty bottle to her as he arranges the infant to be burped.  As expected, he whimpers a bit before starting to cry at the sensation of having his food withdrawn.  Alec makes what he hopes are reassuring noises at him and continues to pat him gently until he gets the burp he’s looking for.  Catarina hands him the bottle back to complete the baby’s meal.

“What was your brother’s name?” Catarina asks after the infant has been fed his bottle and Alec has managed to burp him a second time.

This time Alec’s smile is bright, “Max. His name was Max.”

According to Catarina, he is in Harlem and the year is 2010.  She converted this church to be something of a warlock sanctuary.  “Many warlock infants are abandoned once their human mother discovers their demon mark.  I try to provide a place where they can do this safely and a place where these children can grow up feeling accepted, even loved,” she says.

Catarina also carefully tells him that they met before, many years ago, when she was younger and he helps her escape from villagers attempting to burn her for being a witch.  Alec shrugs at this information.  Apparently, older him has much better control over the chronos rune than he did and decided to make his life easier.  Go him. 

A loud knock interrupts their quiet conversation.  Alec raises an eyebrow, “Expecting someone?”

Catarina shakes her head, but moves to answer the door.  “Don’t worry.  There are wards in place to protect this place from attack.  Plus, I don’t see intruders as the type to knock.”

Alec is not comforted and quickly moves the warlock children so they are no longer out in the open.  He sorely wishes he had his stele and his bow.

Catarina opens the door only a sliver and uses her body to block as much of the visitor’s view of the inside of the church as possible.  Alec holds the infant warlock to him tighter.  From where he is huddled with the children, Alec can see their visitor is likely male, tall and wearing dark clothing.  He does not need to see him to recognize him, however; as he knows that voice.

“What did he want?” Alec asks Catarina immediately, walking with her as she hurries to the back of the converted church. 

“He said he came to warn me that Valentine intends to attack the sanctuary.”  Catarina picks up her phone and scrolls through her contacts.

Alec cries, “What? When?” 

“Tonight,” Catarina replies curtly.  Her contact must pick up the phone as she speaks into it a moment later, “It’s me.  I need your help.  Can you come over now?” The contact must reply in the affirmative as Catarina thanks them and then hangs up.  “Look, Alexander, you should go.  This isn’t your fight.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Alec growls.  “Let me borrow your phone.”  Catarina grins at him as she hands him the phone.  Alec should call his Clave contact.  He should, but he doesn’t.  Jace picks up the phone before it finishes ringing even once.  “Hey, it’s me.  Well, me six years from now.  Don’t ask questions.  Can you come to Harlem now with some of my gear?”

~ ~ ~

Jace and Izzy spend hours in Central Park, but find no sign of Alec.  A tracing rune also produces nothing but blackness. 

“Maybe he jumped?”  Izzy muses aloud, leaning over Alec’s station at the Institute.  Jace tries not to think too hard about how wrong she looks there.

Jace says, “It’s possible, but Alec took up running to help prevent involuntary jumps.  If he did jump, he probably felt threatened in some way.”

Izzy nods, “Well, I don’t want to waste any more time if there is a chance that Alec could be in serious trouble.  We should just pay a warlock to perform a trace.”

“Got anyone in mind?” Jace asks, pulling out his phone to text their mother about the very large purchase they were about to make. 

Shrugging, Izzy replies, “We might as well go straight to the best…The High Warlock of Brooklyn.”

~ ~ ~

A few moments after Alec hangs up on Jace, a portal opens in the daycare and a lime green man with horns steps through it.

“Who’s the Shadowhunter?”  The man asks managing to sound both bored and defensive.

Catarina waves him off.  “He’s an old friend.  Alexander,” She gestures to Alec, “meet Ragnor.  Ragnor, this is Alexander.  But never mind that now.  I need you to take the children to Tessa’s.  I’ve been warned Valentine is going to attack the sanctuary tonight.”  Catarina doesn’t wait for Ragnor to respond and begins to collect the children, allowing them to take one toy each with them.  The green warlock sighs as if he has been put out, but opens another portal, presumably to Tessa’s.

“What will _you_ do,” Alec asks clutching the warlock infant closer to him as Catarina sends the other children, one by one, through Ragnor’s portal. 

Catarina’s grin is all teeth, “I will get the children to safety and then I will teach that no-good Shadowhunter a lesson about messing with me and mine.” Catarina gestures for him to hand the infant warlock to her.  Alec gazes at the child once more to commit his features to his memory before putting him in her arms.  Catarina’s face softens for a moment, “You will see him again.”

“I doubt it,” Alec replies quietly.

Catarina places the infant in Ragnor’s arms, “And who is this?” he asks.

“This is Max,” Catarina answers immediately to Alec’s surprise.  “Get the children settled with Tessa and then come back as soon as you can,” turning to Alec the two share a knowing look, “we have some planning to do.”

~ ~ ~

Izzy looks up at the unassuming brick building, not particularly impressed.  She was told Magnus Bane was one of the oldest and wealthiest warlocks alive.  Maybe he just has poor taste in housing, she thinks, pressing the buzzer for the building. 

“Who calls upon the High Warlock of Brooklyn?” A booming voice demands from the callbox.   

“Isabelle and Jace Lightwood,” she replies, “We sent you a fire message earlier about a tracing spell for our brother?”

Jace pushes open the metal gate as the two Lightwoods are buzzed in. 

“Ah, the Lightwoods,” the lithe Asian man that ushers them through the door says to them in greeting, “Please come in.”

Izzy reneges on her belief that the High Warlock of Brooklyn has bad taste.  His loft, she finds, is decorated impeccably: mid-century modern with Asian accent pieces.  The warlock himself Izzy finds equally surprising.  While his voice is calm and old, his face is youthful and sparkling.  The man wore more eyeliner than her and wore it even better maybe.

“You’re Magnus Bane?” Jace questions coming across the same set of contradictions as Izzy.

The man cocks his head at Jace and flashes golden eyes.  With a flick of his wrists, blue fire emits from his fingertips. “The one and only,” he replies in a bored voice.  “You said you need a tracing spell?”

Izzy nods, shouldering Jace aside.  “Yes.  For our brother, Alec.”

“It’ll cost you,” he reminds them to Jace’s annoyance.

“Yes, of course.  We brought payment with us.  Along with this,” Izzy tells Magnus, handing him Alec’s bow and quiver.  

Magnus stares long and hard at the items in his hands.  “What did you say your brother’s name was again?”

“Alec,” Izzy replies, “Well.  Alexander.  Alexander Lightwood.  But he goes by Alec.”

“Alexander,” Magnus murmurs.  “Do you…do you have a picture of him by any chance?”

Jace thinks for a minute before pulling his phone out and showing Magnus his lock screen, which is a selfie he took of him and Alec on matching horses at the Central Park Carousel.  Jace is pretending his horse is galloping while grinning widely at the camera.  Alec is behind him, looking over at Jace’s antics with fond exasperation.

Magnus stares at the screen in silence until it goes dark.  His eyes following the phone hungrily as Jace reclaims it.  “Do you…know him?” Izzy asks, not understanding the emotions flittering across the warlock’s face.  His eyes have become wide and liquid.

“Alexander Lightwood,” he repeats in awe, ignoring Izzy’s inquiry.  “Is he in danger?” he asks, alarmed.

Izzy answers slowly, “We’re not sure.  That’s why we’re trying to locate him.  We think he might be.”

Magnus nods.  “Then I will help you find him,” he says, “and when you find him, you will ask him to come see me.  That is the only payment I will accept for my services.”

The Lightwoods exchange confused looks, but after a moment Izzy nods.  Magnus smiles his approval and places Alec’s items on the table almost reverently.  “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

~ ~ ~

Jace eyes Alec’s clothes judgmentally before handing him his crossbow and his shortest stele, which is about the size of a library pencil.  When asked about these items, Alec shrugs.  “I won’t miss the crossbow and I need a stele small enough to hide.”

“Where exactly do you plan on hiding it?” Jace asks him sounding far too amused.

Alec rolls his eyes, “In my hair, okay?”

Jace laughs, but the jovial tone is short lived as he spots Ragnor and Catarina behind him.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Alec wishes Jace could stay as his combat skills would be helpful in this situation, but Alec won’t risk his brother’s life.  “I’ll be fine.  You should head home,” he forces himself to say.  The brothers share a brief, but warm embrace.  “I’m glad you’re my brother, Jace,” he whispers and feels the blonde tense for a minute.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replies with a happy smile, eyes lingering on Alec’s for a minute or two longer.  Alec waits until the other man is fully out of sight before shutting the church door firmly.  He moves the heaviest item he could find, a chest of drawers, in front of it.  

Jace has often expressed to him that the most stressful thing about a battle is waiting for it to begin.  Alec finds that ridiculous.  The most stressful thing about a battle is the battle, but he concedes the anticipation is no picnic either.

As it approaches midnight, Alec begins to wonder if they weren’t being made fools of, the source of the warning being untrustworthy to say the least.  His thoughts are interrupted by pounding reverberating throughout the sanctuary.  Someone was trying to take down Catarina’s wards.  Alec scans the rafters.  The weakest points of the wards were by the roof, so this is where he is expecting most of their assailants will attempt to enter from.  The pounding sounds grow louder and louder until they stop abruptly.  In the rafters, Alec can see the silhouette of a figure crouched in the corner like a human sized spider.  Alec raises his crossbow and fires.  He misses as the intruder dodges his arrow and starts to make his way down the rafters.  Alec spots another figure after him and then another.  His second shot hits its mark and the man falls to the ground in a satisfying thud.  Alec hollers a warning to Catarina and Ragnor as the first intruder reaches the ground and approaches him.  His face reminds him of Jonathan Wayland’s, although he is not sure why.  Maybe it was the hollowness in his eyes.  Like Jonathan, this man’s face would be attractive, save for the sneer on his lips.  A few feet from him, Catarina slams a Circle member into a wall with her magic. 

“Where are the children?” the unknown man demands, drawing his blade.

Alec instinctively wants to step back and put more distance between himself and this Shadowhunter, but he holds his ground, knowing that such a motion would be an act of acquiescence for this man.  “They are safe from you,” he replies with a calmness he does not entirely feel.     

The man laughs unkindly, “Soon no one will be safe from me.”  Alec narrowly dodges the first swing of the man’s blade, but loses his balance in the process.  He attempts to line a shot off his crossbow, but it goes wide and one swing from the man’s blade wrenches the weapon from his hands.  Alec manages to avoid most of the next swipe of the man’s blade, but the tip catches him across the chest.  Before the weapon can be brought down again, however, an invisible force shoves Alec’s assailant across the room.  Alec looks up dazedly into Catarina’s concerned eyes.  She and Ragnor have apparently made quick work of their other “guests.” 

The aforementioned green warlock is standing next to Catarina, picking dirt from his red velvet blazer in mild irritation. “Your rogue Shadowhunter is escaping,” he says, without looking at either of them.

Catarina does not acknowledge him or their intruder and instead focuses on Alec’s wound, shooting soothing red bolts of energy into the cut.  “Alexander, look at me,” she orders when she notices the Shadowhunter’s blue eyes start to glaze over.  “Do not jump.  Stay here with me.”

If only I could, Alec thinks, feeling the familiar pull of his jump and all at once, the soothing warmth of Catarina’s hands evaporates.  


End file.
